Flat Sweet Flat
by Ensignily
Summary: A collection of Sherolly/Sherlolly one shots. I accept prompt requests! Thank you mylovelymindpalace for the inspiration. Go read her story as well: There is no title.
1. Bike Launching

**Thank you all in advance for reading my story. I will be accepting prompts- for I cannot think of anything on my own. If you want a sequel to a story, just let me know in a review, and if I get enough requests, and if you're lucky, you might get a sequel. : D**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes. c:**

* * *

Sherlock Holmes, the world's only Consulting Detective, walked into the morgue like he owned the place, pushing open the door dramatically. When he opened the door, however, he didn't see what he expected to see. Instead of Molly Hooper, _his _pathologist, he saw a different woman.

She was short, only about 5"1. Her hair was dark and straight, falling to her mid back. The information ran through his head in a matter of seconds as she turned and looked at him.

_Asian heritage, twenty-eight years old, right handed, engaged- approximately three months, expensive diamond and pearl necklace- obviously a gift from parents, about seven years old –leading to a slightly wealthy family- but doesn't like to take advantage of the money. The necklace is worn by sentiment, so possibly one or both of the parents have passed away. Second youngest of six: three brothers and two sisters. Lives close enough to walk home according to the walking shoes on the floor next to her bag, but changes into the flats that she's currently wearing. Dog fur on black slacks- some brown and some grey. Two dogs. Means to put hair up later, possibly before leaving according to the red hair band on her wrist; Purposely red to match her jacket, which rests around her waist. _

"Who the heck are you?" He asked quickly.

"My name is Maylin Smith," she started, smiling. "I'm filling in for Doctor Molly Hooper today."

Sherlock groaned. He didn't want to deal with some air-headed doctor who was just acting as a substitute. "Where's Molly?" he asked urgently.

Maylin frowned. "I'm not sure. Mike didn't tell me why she was out- he just told me to fill in."

Sherlock didn't reply, he just whipped out his phone instead. He found Molly's contact and began to type.

_Why aren't you at the morgue? –SH_

**Send**

Maylin looked up at him cautiously. "Can…Can I help you with anything?"

The phone in Sherlock's hand vibrated.

_Ankle's broken. Will be out for a couple weeks until I heal enough to go in, but I'll still have a cast. –Molly_

Sherlock didn't look up from his phone. "No…"

_I'll be over shortly. –SH_

Sherlock put his phone back into his pocket and looked down at the confused Maylin. Right as she was about to question him again, Sherlock said, "I'll be back in a couple of weeks." And turned at his heel to walk out the door.

* * *

Molly had only seen the text a few moments before the abrupt knock at the door.

"Just a sec!" she called, grabbing her crutches and using them for support as she stood up, then made her way to the door. She glanced through the peephole to double check that it was Sherlock, and opened the door.

Sherlock scanned her face (she was tired, partly from lack of rest and partly from the pain medicine) and made his way down to the purple cast on her right foot.

"What happened?" he asked immediately.

Molly guided him inside and sat herself back down on the couch as he took a seat next to her. "Well, I partly-fell partly-launched off a bike." She said, recalling the memory from a few days before.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "How exactly were you launched off of your bike?"

"Well, Saturday I took the day off to visit my brother, Steven, on the other side of town. He suggested that we go bike riding, so we did. It was quite fun, actually. We rode down a trail and talked; catching up on each other's lives. As we were heading back, there was this _deep_ pothole in the road, and I didn't notice it. The front wheel of the bike dropped down into it, stopping the bike and I got launched over the handlebars and landed in some sort of awkward heap on top of my foot, breaking my ankle. It was in that sort of position where my foot was straight up on the ground as if I was standing, and it landed like that, with the rest of my body coming down on top of it. It was quite painful and I didn't think it was broken at first. Steven helped me up and we slowly were able to get back to his house, where he called an ambulance. It's not too terribly broken, just a bad fracture."

Sherlock studied her face as she spoke. She didn't seem horribly upset but tried to hide her pain, but Sherlock of course noticed it.

"You need pain medicine." He said simply, standing up.

"What?"

"You need pain medicine, didn't you hear me? Where do you keep it?"

"The last cabinet, all the way to the left in the kitchen."

Sherlock walked over with large steps to her small kitchen and pulled the prescription medicine out of the cabinet, examining the bottle.

"When's the last time you took one?" he asked to her as he read the fine print on the side.

She looked over at him; trying to remember what time she woke up. Earlier than she would've liked, that's for sure. The pain woke her up. "About seven this morning." She concluded.

Sherlock sighed. "That was over eleven ago. You need to take one." He began to open the bottle and dumped two pills into his hands. Grabbing a glass of water, he went to sit down next to Molly again, handing her the water and pills. He watched her closely as she swallowed the medication.

"Do you need help with anything? Chores, dinner?" he asked before he had time to think about what he was saying.

Molly looked into his eyes. "No, thank you anyways, Sherlock. I think I'm okay."

"You _think _you're okay, but really you aren't. You can hardly walk. You cared for me for the long while after the fall. I owe you." He replied quickly. _What're you thinking? You can hardly make a piece of toast without burning it! _He thought to himself.

But it was true. He owed her his life and he's willing to make it up, even if half of him doesn't believe he can do that.

Molly sighed. "If you insist, Sherlock. I know you can't cook, though. I discovered that awhile ago, " she smirked, "but you do make a good cup of tea."

"Would you like one then?" he asked.

"A cup of tea?"

"That's what you said, isn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose it was."

"Sugar?"

"Please!"

Sherlock got up to turn on the electric kettle. "What would you like for dinner then?" he asked.

"I told you, I know you don't cook." She replied, looking over at him.

"Takeaway?" he asked in response.

"Like always."

* * *

Half an hour later the pair sat down on the couch silently eating Chinese.

Sherlock studied her living room as he picked through his meal. Small, cozy. A sofa and a single armchair sat side by side with a coffee table in the center of the room, and a TV across from it. On either side of the TV sat bookshelves, nearly overflowing with books. Most of them were fiction, but a few medical books were cluttered together in the corner of the right bookshelf. There were a few windows on the wall to their right, overlooking the street where the sun began to set.

Sherlock continued to study the main room until he felt Molly's cold hand rest on his.

Looking over at her, she was staring right into his eyes. "Thank you," she whispered. Then, to Sherlock's surprise she leaned over and kissed him softly on the cheek.

Sherlock tried to suppress his smile, but failed as the corners of his mouth curved up. Molly smiled as well.

Now, it was Molly's turn to be surprised. Sherlock leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers in a swift movement. Molly looked at him as her cheeks slowly turned a light shade of pink. Sherlock said nothing; but he stared into her eyes as if he was reading her thoughts.

_Thank you, Molly Hooper._

* * *

**Thank you! As I said, I will be accepting prompts, so if you have any suggestions just add it into your review. :3**

**~Cameron**


	2. Sleep

**The prompt is "Sleep" provided by mylovelymindpalace. :)**

* * *

When Sherlock had last looked up from the microscope, Molly was slowly getting her way through some paperwork. This time, however, her head rested on the stack of papers on her desk, breathing steadily. At first, he found her steady breathing calming and it helped him focus. As she fell into deeper sleep and her breathing grew louder, Sherlock realized that he should probably wake her up or take her home. She was working the night shift today, and it was almost time for her to leave anyways. He sighed, wanting to finish examining the tree bark on the slide of the microscope, but decided that it was already late enough and should be getting home.  
Sherlock stood up and strode towards the door to put on his coat and scarf. Turning back towards Molly, he poked her forearm. He wasn't used to having to wake people up- he was usually the last one to awaken anyhow; Mrs. Hudson was an early riser naturally, and John's a light sleeper. Waking people up was one of the little things that made Sherlock feel awkward. Sherlock looked around behind him, as if someone had magically appeared in the lab at 11:45 pm, then slightly shook her arm, causing her to wake up slightly.  
"Hm?" she moaned, raising her head off of the stack of papers but not opening her eyes. "What time is it? Sherlock?" she asked.  
"It's eleven-forty-five." Sherlock said simply in response. "It's time for you to go home."  
Molly opened her eyes and looked at Sherlock. He helped her stand up and handed Molly her purse.  
"Ow," Molly moaned, putting her palm against her forehead. Her whole head was thumping and in pain.  
"Headache?" Sherlock asked, but it seemed more like a statement than a question. He lead Molly towards the door and held it open for her.  
She walked through and nodded slightly as a thank you. "Yeah," Molly replied, "it's hurting more with every step."  
"I'll get you home." he reassured her.

As soon as Sherlock hailed a taxi (it took a little while longer considering it was almost midnight), he told the cabbie to go to Molly's flat. When they arrived, Sherlock opened the door with the keys he fished out of her purse. Molly, who was still half-asleep, walked in and collapsed on her sofa and groaned. "Pain medicine," she grumbled into the pillow. "Get the tylenol."  
Sherlock snooped around her kitchen cabinets and drawers until he found some pain relief pills for headaches. As he searched, he noticed quite a few bottles of wines and vodka sitting on the counter. There was only a bit left in each bottle, and they're each fairly new. She must have shared it with a few other people. John mentioned something about going with his girlfriend- Megan or Mary, he thought as he tried to remember her name -out to drink with one of her friends. Weren't she and Molly friends? That was obviously where she got her headache from; she had drank a little more than she would've liked.

Sherlock handed her the tylenol as she reawakened. Her face was pale, eyes a light shade of red, bags under her eyes, slow, tired movements. She obviously needed some water and some rest. He knew what to do- give her some tylenol, have her drink a glass or two of water, and put her into bed -he just didn't know if he could apply the appearance that he cared. He obviously did, but he wasn't the best at showing it. John was better at that sort of thing, but he will most likely wake up in a few hours to vomit from the alcohol. He went back to the kitchen and got her a glass of water.  
"Drink it." He said, handing it to her. She looked up at him with tired eyes and took the glass and started to gulp down the cold, clean water.  
Sherlock grabbed her wrist to take her pulse, then helped her stand up. "You need to sleep," he told her softly.  
"I... I know.." she replied. He guided her to her bedroom. He gently laid her down into bed and pulled the covers over her.  
Sherlock leaned down to look at her. Long eyelashes, smooth skin, silky brown hair. She looked so delicate and beautiful- like a rose. A rose, yes, that's what she reminded him of. Sherlock started to walk away, but Molly grabbed onto his hand before he could walk away.  
"Stay here. Just for a little bit." she said, obviously sleep talking- her eyes were closed and she wouldn't have done that if she had her senses.  
Without a word, Sherlock sat down at the edge of the bed. Molly was still holding onto his hand.  
After a few minutes, her grip loosened on his hand and he slowly stood up, trying not to disturb her.

Sherlock leaned down and gently kissed her on the forehead. "Goodnight Molly."

* * *

**I hope you all enjoyed it! It's not the best, and I tried not to make it similar to the previous chapter. :)**

**~Cameron**


	3. Cooking

**The prompt was Married!Sherlolly by whovianallover.**

* * *

When Molly arrived home, there was a clashing of pots and pans from above in the kitchen, and horrible smell of smoke lingered down the stairs. "Sherlock, what're you doing?" she called up as she hung up her coat.

"Nothing!" was all that called back in response as more pots and pans clattered around. When Molly made her way up, she saw Sherlock surrounded by almost every cooking utensil that was in the kitchen. Silverware, pots, plates, cutting boards. Everything was on the floor, while in the air thick black smoke coming from the oven made her eyes water. A pot on the stove began to overflow along with the whistling of a kettle. The smoke alarm on the ceiling had a bullet hole in it. Sherlock stood in the middle of the mess, his laptop and a handgun were the only things sitting on the dining table. He was a complete mess- flour on his clothes and various stains from food on his wet hands.  
"Sherlock!" Molly finally cried after getting a good look at the scene in front of her.  
"What?" he said, half innocently- as if he had done nothing wrong whatsoever -and half defensively.  
"You practically blew up the entire kitchen! What were you even doing?"  
"I was cooking."  
Molly scowled. "I would tell you to clean up this mess but I know you're hardly capable of doing that."  
Sherlock let out a deep chuckle as he washed his hands. Molly was already picking up bowls and placing them on the table. Sherlock looked back over at her and smiled ever so slightly as she bent over to pick up a whisk. After drying his hands, he walked over to her and wrapped his long arms around her small waist, causing her to jump slightly.

He pulled her close into his chest and leaned his head down to whisper in her ear, "I'll clean it up. You go take a shower and relax." with that he kissed the top of her ear and sent her to the bathroom.  
As Sherlock began to clean up the mess with the food, he heard Molly's soft singing from the shower. He closed his eyes as her voice made its way into the kitchen. It was very soft and graceful and it relaxed him as he cleaned up. Soon enough, the singing stopped and shortly after Molly stepped out of the bathroom wearing some pajamas. She sat down onto the couch and turned on the telly.  
"Come join me," she said, patting the spot on the sofa next to her. Sherlock walked over and sat down next to her, focusing his eyes on whatever it was that was appearing onto the television. Molly brought her legs up onto the couch and curled up against Sherlock as he wrapped his arms around her.  
"What do you want for dinner?" he asked.  
Molly looked down at her stomach. Sherlock furrowed his brows.  
"Well, I know you won't be the one cooking. Perhaps we order from somewhere?" she said with a yawn. It was too late to begin another cooking project.  
"Alright. I'll go find the menus." Sherlock stood up to go retrieve menus from a cabinet in the kitchen.  
Molly gently drew little shapes with her fingers on her belly. She looked up when he came back. "By the way," she started, "after dinner, there was something I needed to tell you."

* * *

**I'm sorry it's not the best. :P I've been at school and I'm so busy, and I have to do homework and stuff and I only have a few hours. I have to practice my clarinet too. Blahh.**

**I've really been wanting to start a Chekov x OC fic in the Star Trek 2009 category, if anyone is interested in reading let me know. I'll hopefully be starting it soon, but it might slow down this story as well.**

**Anyways, I hope you liked it. I'll be needing more prompts! : D**

**~Cameron**


	4. Baby

**Hey guys. :3 I'm so sorry I keep giving you breaks between chapters. I'm just really busy and such. I'm tired and have no idea what to do but here is just a little moment when Sherlock is given the news that his wife is pregnant. This isn't a sequel, just so you know. The previous chapter may have left off where this prompt begins, but this one has a different setting and such. Enjoy!**

* * *

It had been only over a month since Molly found out she was pregnant. It was quite unexpected and unintended, but it was a pleasant surprise.

Sherlock never liked small children- they always got in the way of everything, they smelled, they cried, and they did everything Sherlock didn't have the patience for. But when he found out that his wife was pregnant, he started to think about it all. This was _his _child. Something only he could make. A whole new life form was growing inside Molly's small, delicate body. It would soon grow up to be an adult (somewhat) like him. And this thought fascinated him.

* * *

Sherlock was out of town on a case, and left his wife Molly some time to herself. She took the time to clean the flat and relax. A few days after Sherlock left, Molly began to suspect something was wrong. After purchasing a pregnancy test, her lips curled up into a grin when she saw the results.  
A _child._ Her very own child.  
Though she wasn't ready for one yet, it brought such joy to her, knowing that it was hers to raise and care for.

Molly didn't want to wait for Sherlock to come back home- God knows when that would be -so she decided to text him.

_I know this wasn't expected, but I just found out that I'm pregnant._

She kept the text simple and short.

Sherlock was in the middle of investigating a dead body out on a mountain trail when he received the text. He whipped his phone out from his trench coat and looked at the message on the screen.  
John noticed how is face went pale and watched as his friend read the text over and over. "You alright, Sherlock?" he asked.  
"Molly," he murmured.  
"What's wrong with Molly? Sherlock?" John asked, confused.  
Sherlock looked up from his phone. "She's pregnant." he replied shortly.

He looked down at the cold, lifeless body lying in the blood-soaked dirt, then back up. "I'll get back to the case tomorrow," he said simply, and walked towards the hotel they were staying at.  
"Sherlock, you can't just abandon the case!" Lestrade called after him.  
Annoyed, he replied, "I _said_ I'll be back tomorrow!"

Sherlock spent the rest of the afternoon, as well as most of the night, trapped inside his mind trying to sort everything out.  
He tried to avoid the questions that would haunt him, such as, _Will I be a good father? What if something is wrong with the baby? _and kept assuring himself everything would be alright. Then, the reality of it all hit him. This child was his, and it was growing inside of Molly. She would carry another human being inside of her for nine months until it was ready to bring itself into the world. Sherlock smiled softly, looking out at the sunrise peaking out from the horizon from his window.

* * *

Sherlock arrived back at his home at 221b. Molly was sitting on the sofa watching telly when she heard his call from downstairs. She stood up and stretched, and Sherlock didn't say anything. He just strode up to her and embraced her in a hug.

* * *

**Sorry it's so sucky, haha. I will be needing some prompts if you want another chapter, so any sort of prompt is fine (a full or one word).  
As I said in my AN last chapter, I should be making a Chekov x OC story in the Star Trek 2009 category for movies. I'm about to explode from not making it yet, so please remember that I'm also (about) to be having two fics that need to be uploaded so haha yay.**

**~Cameron**


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